


The Damsel

by MashedMango



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Arthur, Crossdressing, M/M, Missionary Position, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-24 14:48:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20360305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MashedMango/pseuds/MashedMango
Summary: Even after a successful heist, Arthur is still mad about the plan. Dutch just gets a glint in his eye, not intimidated in the slightest. That infuriating grin grows wider. And it's at this point, Arthur knows he's going to get fucked in the dress.





	The Damsel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WeNeedARuse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeNeedARuse/gifts).

> I gift this, my first ever fic, to WeNeedARuse - the co-owner of my Red Dead braincell. You never fail to make me laugh. If anyone is familiar or a fan of her work on AO3, you may recognise snippets from a few of her fics. You may also spot a snippet from Zasa's 'Staring Down A Barrel' too - one of my absolute faves!
> 
> Written on 19th Aug and originally published on Tumblr. Search for mashed-mango if ya wanna follow/say howdy.
> 
> To anyone brave enough to proceed, this is just straight up porn :) Not beta read. All mistakes are my own. Constructive feedback is welcome. Be kind to a nervous mango.

Even after a successful heist, Arthur is still mad about the plan. Incensed that he allowed Dutch to convince him to dress up as a damsel - a decoy in the distance to distract their unwitting target while Dutch and Hosea, dressed in their own smart attire, make off with the loot. As the pair rejoice and congratulate one another on a job well done, Arthur just feels like a fool.

He stomps away from the hitching posts towards their temporary homestead, swearing up a storm. Humiliation and the skirts of his pretty dress weighing him down. He has half a mind to rip the thing to shreds, burn the rags and pour the soot all over Dutch's bedroll. 

"Now ma'am, it's not dignified for a young lady to curse like that", Dutch teases as he follows Arthur into the cabin.

Arthur growls and pivots on his heel to give the older man a shove, hard enough to make his top hat fall off. 

"You can shut the fuck up!"

Dutch just gets a glint in his eye, not intimidated in the slightest. That infuriating grin grows wider. 

And it's at this point, Arthur knows he's going to get fucked in the dress.

Dutch holds his gaze as he approaches him again slowly, the smile now gone but replaced with a look of something else. Hunger. The weight of it has Arthur's back against the nearest wall and his mouth goes dry as Dutch makes a show of removing his white gloves. 

Arthur lets him get close. Lets him glide those beringed fingers down the bodice and squeeze him at the hips. Then lower to gather up the skirts. Skims Arthur's thighs as he does it. Mostly just to hear his breathing catch. He's always been receptive to a light, tantalising touch.

With calloused fingertips, Dutch spends a few seconds caressing the sensitive flesh of the younger man's inner thighs before moving between them to gently squeeze his balls; velvety material hitched up on his own wrists. Their faces are close and Arthur desperately wants to be kissed. But he knows what kind of mood Dutch is in. He's in charge. And right now, he's caught in Arthur's gaze and breathing heavy against his parted lips when he takes Arthur's cock in hand and gives it a long, slow tug. He delights in the way Arthur's eyes widen at the pleasure.

Arthur is still waiting on that kiss and takes his chance to lean forward to take Dutch's bottom lip between his own; manages to get a taste for just a second before Dutch has a hand on his neck and pushes his head back to the wall. He leaves his hand there, fingers applying just a hint of pressure, feels the swallow of Arthur's throat. He knows Arthur enjoys these little powerplays between them, but he's bemused to see him avert his eyes.

"Look at me, Arthur"

Arthur obeys for a moment, and groans at the feel of Dutch twisting his fist around the head of his cock, before he slams his eyes closed. He's self-conscious now, more than ever.

Dutch just continues the slow strokes - the flesh not yet slick enough for anything too vigorous but judging by Arthur's low groans and the subtle shifting of his hips, he figures the younger man doesn't mind.

"You look good like this. All big and strong, covered in lace..." 

He can't help the slight crack in his own voice. Takes a breath. 

"It gets me hard."

Oh, Arthur can feel how hard. Can feel the rut of it against his thigh - a contrast to the soft, tickling feeling of the material bunched up at his hips.

"I look ridiculous" Arthur groans.

Dutch eyes him for a second, uses the hand he still has on Arthur's neck to tilt his head up slightly and kisses him hard. To quieten his doubt. To reassure.

Arthur's mouth opens on a gasp as the pleasure between his legs increases, an opportune moment for Dutch's tongue to plunge inside and taste the lingering flavour of expensive scotch and something else which is uniquely Arthur. His boy.

Dutch begins to pull back from the kiss with in the intention of moving things along - wanting to make his partner moan his name in ecstasy, but Arthur has other ideas. He chases the retreating mouth with his own, pulls Dutch back in by his lapels. He allows it for a while, lets Arthur have his way. Lets him get rid of the bowtie. Enjoys the feel of his hands rubbing over his chest, catching on the buttons. Manages to worm a hand inside to graze his nails over a nipple, causing Dutch to emit a noise that he would later deny making. 

Dutch moves south. Peppers wet kisses along the column of Arthur's throat. Stops to nip at the fluttering pulse and leaves a mark Arthur will having trouble hiding tomorrow. He continues his descent, drags his tongue down the line of buttons on the dress - he'll enjoy ripping those open later - until he's on his knees. His head now under the raised hem of the skirt, eager to get to his prize.

"Hold 'em up for me, Arthur" 

Arthur complies with shaking hands, bunches up the material in one as he threads the fingers of the other through Dutch's hair.

He licks the length of Arthur once, relishes the sound of a choked gasp from above, before lapping at the tip. He closes his lips around the head and slowly sinks down, taking as much of him as he wants to. He keeps his fist wrapped around the base and he strokes in time with the movement of his mouth - slow and teasing, dragging out Arthur's pleasure. 

"Fuck, Dutch... I can't..."

All the younger man can do is hold on and tug lightly on the loose curls at the nape of Dutch's neck, trying his best not to buck. What he wouldn't give to just hold that dark head still and go to town on his throat. But they each have their boundaries. 

Dutch releases him and takes a moment to catch his breath, looks up to find Arthur chewing his lip. A light sheen of sweat on his brow. Chest heaving. The hand still resting on the back of Dutch's head slips around to trace a cheekbone, trails down a bit to thumb the corner of his mouth. Dutch smiles and Arthur wonders how a man on his knees can still exude an air of dominance.

"Why'd ya stop?" Arthur asks.

He just rises to his feet and leisurely divests himself of his waistcoat and shirt, dark eyes locked onto blue. That infernal smile! Arthur can barely stand it - he's ready to fall apart at the seams!

"Because you ain't coming until I'm inside you."

In a dizzying rush, Arthur finds himself manoeuvred away from the wall and pushed down onto his own bedroll. He resists the insistent pushing of Dutch's hands on his shoulders for a moment, suddenly worried.

"We can't - Hosea will be back soon," he explains in a desperate rush.

"We have time. Just lie back and enjoy this, my boy. It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"But Hosea -"

"Arthur, if you say Hosea's name one more time, I'll never get hard again."

That little remark earns Dutch a huff of laughter and Arthur willingly lies back, with bent up knees which Dutch separates so he can kneel up between them. Stares down at him for a moment. Admires the way the skirts are gathered and pooled on either side of his waist; the flush of his face, the pink spreading down his neck. 

Arthur watches Dutch watch him as he unbuckles his belt. The jangle of the metal sounds deafening in the quiet of the cabin and Arthur picks up on the faint start of rain outside. Then all he can hear is the sound of Dutch's groan as he finally releases his cock from the confines of his tight dress pants. The tip already red and glistening, and Christ, he wants it in his mouth.

But Arthur can't wait any longer. He grabs for the small pot stashed inside the pillowcase beneath his head and all but throws it at the other man.

Dutch wastes no time in slicking up his fingers to draw a wet line from Arthur's taint down to the tight rim of muscle below. Just a light pressure of maddening circles that leaves Arthur whining and squirming with the pleasure, desperately trying to rock his hips down to get more. Dutch doesn't tease him for long and slowly slips a single digit inside. Pauses when Arthur's breath hitches and only resumes the hot slide when he gets his nod of approval. 

By the time Dutch has three fingers inside him, Arthur has a vice-like grip on the pillow and is trying to relax as best as he can.

"That's it, just breathe deep, my boy. My pretty boy." 

Dutch sucks at the blooming mark on his neck as he draws in and out, frequently pressing on that place deep inside that makes Arthur's toes curl with the heat it ignites in his belly.

“Good?” Dutch asks as he eases out.

"God damn it, Dutch - just get inside me! I can't hold out much longer! Please!"

A dark chuckle. And he's suddenly empty.

"I love it when you beg."

A hand is back at the base of this throat which he immediately latches onto with one of his own, squeezing the wrist. His leg hoisted up to rest on Dutch's hip. He knows what's coming next. Takes another deep inhale at the feel of blunt pressure. This is the worst and best part. But he knows he's safe. He accepts the familiar burn of pain but he can't keep his eyes open for it. The movement inside him stops before he feels a thumb stroke the underside of his jaw.

“You alright, Arthur?”

He gasps an answer.

“Is it too much?”

Always. But this is exactly what he wants. He shakes his head.

"Am I too much?"

Arthur exhales and looks up with a smirk, "Don't flatter yourself, old man. I can more than handle you."

Dutch only narrows his eyes, doesn't dignify his cheek with an answer, but does give him a sharp thrust. The motion is hard enough to inch Arthur's body up, makes him throw his head back and groan.

"For that, you can’t touch yourself. You come from this, my dear boy, or not at all.”

Dutch drives forward again, slow. Curses when it makes Arthur clench around him and arch his spine. He moves his hand from Arthur's leg to fist the material at his waist. Begins to rock his hips harder, moaning, completely drunk on the ecstasy that fills the room and Arthur uses his other leg to pull him even closer. He still has a grasp on his wrist, leaving indents in the skin, but Dutch doesn't mind - he know's it's his anchor. 

It doesn't last long. Both of them too pent up after weeks of going without. Dutch feels his control slipping, can't help the erratic snap of his hips as he feels the tremble of Arthur's thighs around him.

"Fuck! Dutch, I'm close!"

"Come for me, Arthur. I want to feel it," he pants his reply, desperate for release. 

After a few more seconds he feels Arthur fall apart, belly clenching with the force of his orgasm. Watches as his handsome face contorts in pleasure, grits his teeth in an effort to keep quiet. And his cock erupts, leaving a mess on the dark material of his disguise. Dutch has a fleeting desire to leave his mark on it too, but nothing compares to this searing, convulsing heat. And when he comes, he hides his face in the curve of Arthur’s neck. 

Overwhelmed. 

Shivering. 

Panting.

And then the world quietens, narrows down to just the two of them in this little cabin.


End file.
